I finished No. 19 yesterday, so there isn’t anything of note to add, but I will devote this whole epistle to a couple of things made up by Roy Cohn – a parody to “Pass the Ammunition” and a poem he wrote for George Davis’ promotion party.

PRAISE THE LORD, WE’LL SHOOT THE DIETICIAN

Praise the Lord, we’ll form a coalition Before we all die of malnutrition. Praise the Lord, just change the food you’re dishin’

Praise the Lord, and call the ward physician Praise the Lord, we’re all in bad condition Praise the Lord, we’re dying by attrition ‘Cause the chow’s a mess.

Oh the mess Major’s beat it We oughta make him eat it. For a sonuva, sonuva CENSORED is he.

Praise the Lord, we’ll make the frank admission, That we’d like to get the ammunition Then, by God, we’d shoot the dietician And we’d all pull through.

Poem by Roy Cohn for George Davis’ Promotion Party

The 59th has wit to perceive A rather acute contradiction Between facts it is bound to believe And the Army’s elegant fiction.

On Monday we place with Supply, An order for something we’re needing. By Tuesday the hue and the cry Has died, (‘course the patient’s still bleeding).

On Wednesday, prepared for this chance, We use makeshift means to sustain him. By Thursday the Supply Officer’s advanced to O.K.ing 9 copies (it pains him).

By Friday still the supplies aren’t appearing. (Tomorrow’s the day for inspection.) The patient however’s past caring, He was chosen in St. Peter’s election.

Loads of love,

.

Watch for my next letter on
April 18

George Davis (head of Supply) and Dr. Roy Cohn. Roy wrote a song and a poem to entertain the gang at George’s promotion party.